Repaid Debts, Drunkeness, and Sexy PiratesMature

Captain Nicolaus Meehan spoke with a rumbled authority that could not be denied. It wasn’t enough that he towered over most men, nor was it enough that he was one of the most feared of pirates in all of the Spanish Main, Captain Meehan’s voice broke through like an arrow, rippling and piercing. His coal black eyes shined above sun darkened rims. His skin was a deep leathery brown and his hair hung in wild curly locks so dark they almost looked blue. Strong and powerful, Meehan walked gracefully and his pointed sword swung with the slightest tilt of a swagger as it rested against his hip.

                The sun was setting over the small Island known as El Albergue.  El Albergue, or the Refuge, was a haven for pirates. The location of the island was a secret and only those who knew where it was could find it. It was uncharted and many believed it to be a legendary place. As it was, many pirates, smugglers, convicts, and not to mention hundreds of other lowlifes made this place home. Crime ruled the streets but it was not a dangerous place. The infamous inhabitants of the island peacefully and the idea that all rogues were rogues was respected. To put it in other words, people simply left others alone.

  Sailors bustled on the docks and labored to dock in ships of all sizes before the tide gained strength. The ship known as the Silver Girl, rested neatly at the end of the dock. Being of moderate size, the ship was built for speed and stealth and belonged to the notorious Captain Meehan. Meehan was considered the Governor of the small island. Although he refused to  many any laws, his word was highly respected, and his approval was necessary. Despite his gruff exterior and line of work, Meehan was not an evil individual. Threatening, yes, dangerous, yes, but Meehan adhered to a strict moral code that goes as follows; Think before you destroy. He would never mention it, but Meehan did not enjoy killing. Taking lives was nothing to be proud of, even for a pirate. Meehan had been responsible for ending countless lives but he felt no regret or sorrow. Each man, and perhaps three or so woman, had all been given a choice, walk away or die. Those foolish enough to engage in battle with him were doomed, for there was no one who could equal Meehan’s lethal skill with the blade. Everyone knew this about him, and naturally crowds would clear before him so that he could walk unscathed. Even now, people scrambled out of his way as he made it to his favorite tavern, the Lusty Maiden.

The Lusty Maiden was a medium sized establishment. It was cozy, somewhere between home and public, and the laughter of the frequenters echoed off the shadowy walls day and night. Smells of cooking meat mingled with the aromas of ale and rum. Many people smoked cigars and the heady tobacco fragrance clouded the tavern with smoke.  The heavy oaken doors swung open with a thud and Meehan entered. The buzzing chatter of the tavern quieted momentarily. With a nod of his head Meehan beckoned for the mirth to continue, and it did. Sailors returned to their card games, old men returned to their stories of the glory days, harlots and prostitutes alike displayed their wares, and the small bar keeper went back to polishing mugs. The sound of his boots fell like thunder as he strode to the far end of the tavern.  As there was no empty seat to be found, Meehan kicked the legs out from beneath a stool, and the poor soul atop the mount tumbled to the ground. Meehan rectified the seating arrangement and perched himself on the stool with a natural fluidity that conflicted with his bulky form.

“Rum.” He barked low, but the barkeeper’s back was turned and bent over a small sink.  The scar on his cheek flickered in annoyance.

“Rum.” He commanded again. Still, the barkeeper continued to ignore the pirate.

“Rum.” Said Meehan again, and at this time the bar fell silent. The bar keeper finally turned around, and the tension in the room was palpable. Every pair of eyes was glued to the precarious scene in the back of the room.

“Captain Meehan,” the feminine voice replied in dulcet tones, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Saphara had entered her conduit form of Felicity Small, otherwise known as Filly the Barkeep. Her large breasts overflowed the ratty yet clean dress she wore. Her corset was a deep purple, and the kirtle underneath hung off her thin shoulders. A brown skirt fell to the floor and hid two dainty faint that were nestled in soft leather boots. Hazel eyes bore down on his black eyes with an angered intensity that condemned the sweetness in her tone.

“Filly,” Meehan rasped in a warning tone, “Where is my rum?” A humorless laugh escaped through Filly’s rounded pink lips.

“Your rum? You mean my rum? This institution is not a charity and you have yet to pay for your tab.” Filly rummaged underneath the counter and pulled out a large dusty book. Setting it down on the table with a thud, she cracked open the tome and thumbed through until she found the page that she was looking for.

“Ahah! Here we go. Nicolaus Meehan you currently owe a sum of 30 Spanish gold. Pay now or else get out.” Filly flashed him an indignant smile and pushed the book towards him. She turned around and went back to her mug polishing. A small smile etched the corners of Meehan’s mouth. In truth, Filly was a fascinating individual. Spirited, lively, and intelligent, Filly’s courage and manner made her seem taller than she was. Just like Meehan, she commanded respect.  She put up with nothing, and the Divinity within her gave her strength and power. Filly knew she tested Meehan but she knew that he would never do anything to hurt her. In truth, this was not the first time that she had refused him service. She did not serve anyone who owed more than five Spanish gold, not even the intimidating Captain Nicolaus Meehan.

For a few moments, Meehan sat in repose. A large brown hand found its way to his chin as Meehan reflected upon the recent transpiration of events. He admired the round posterior that swung inside Filly’s skirts. His gaze was hooded and he stroked the hairs on his chin and wondered about the hairs that swirled between the barkeep’s thighs. Still, he was slightly annoyed at his lack of rum. Meehan reached out and grabbed the mug of the lowlife sitting next to him and drained it before slamming it down on to the table.

“Out.” He said, and that was all he had to say. For the second time that evening the chatter died in the Lust Maiden. Chairs and stools squeaked loudly in the tavern as the guests scrambled to leave. Coins were sought through pockets and bags to be then deposited in a hurry onto the tables and ledges. Filly fumed in silent anger and she stood with her legs spread wide and arms akimbo. A towel was hastily thrown over her shoulder and the look on her face dared even the Devil.

“Really?” she huffed. A small stray tendril of curly blonde hair moved upward upon her exasperated sigh. “Quite frankly Meehan I have never once before questioned your audacity, but as to this,” Filly jerked her arms to indicate the emptiness of the room, “This brings it to another level.” She stood quietly now, and her temper continued to flare as Meehan roared with laughter. The look on his face was of pure joy.

“Ahhh Filly,” he whispered, having quieted from his uproarious peals of laughter, “I am pleased that you haven’t lost your spirit yet.” He leaned forward across the bar top and extended a muscular arm towards Filly. Meehan took one of her hands in his and brought it to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles which were still damp from the sink. Meehan gently twisted her around and placed tiny hot kisses on the inside of her wrists and palms. For a brief moment, Filly forgot her anger and was appeased. She luxuriated in the sensations that just a simple kiss could have. But it was just a simple kiss, she mused, it was a kiss from Captain Meehan. Thinking about his name sparked the flame that had banked of her temper, and Filly recoiled from his grasp as if he was diseased.

“Bastard!” she cried. She backed up two steps and grabbed ahold of the sink to brace herself. Meehan began to chuckle.

“Sweet Filly, I tire of playing these games with you. Let us pretend for a brief moment that this,” and now he mimicked her previous indication of the empty room, “is really what the problem is.” Filly made an indelicate grunting noise that bespoke of her contempt.

“What do you mean “pretend what the problem is”?” she said through gritted teeth. The black beneath her eyes flashed, although Meehan could not see. Filly began to pace back and forth like a caged jungle cat. Her temper was at the boiling point. “As I recall, Meehan, the last time you came in to my tavern, not only did and your men drink every last drop of my rum and ale, BUT you stole the special brew I was concocting. It hadn’t even reached maturity yet and you and those spawns of hell that you call your sea mates consumed all! AND,” at this point Filly had stopped paced and paused to stare directly into his black eyes. “You. Fucked. That. Whore.” Filly spat out each of those words with such volatile precision that gave credit to the phrase hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. She was silent now and remained frozen in front of him. Even the infamous Captain Meehan twitched with uncertainty on his stool.

“Filly,” he said finally, “She was just a whore.”

“Oh?” cried Filly as her voice broke. “If she was just a whore than what does that make me? Some convenient sap? Some trollop? Some drunken memory?” Filly clutched her chest as if her heart had burst.

                “You are my lady,” chided Meehan, gently. “You know of my voracious appetites. When I fuck I fuck but never have I fucked you. Filly, no one in this entire world has what you have.”

                “And what is that? Undying shame?”

                “My heart.” It was so astounding to hear someone as gruff as Meehan admit to those tender feelings. Meehan did love Filly, and he was faithful to her, in his own way of course. What he did with other women was to satisfy his hungry needs. To put it in poetics, all others were naught but water to his thirsty nature, but Filly was the elixir of life.  “As to your payment, that is one of the few reasons why I came today.” Meehan swung his cape aside and reached for a hefty bag that hung off his belt. The bag clinked heavily as it landed on the bar top.  “Thirty Spanish gold, plus interest, and then this,” Meehan went to his neck and pulled off an intricately bejeweled necklace, “Is also for you.” Filly took the proffered necklace from outstretched hand. Truly, she had never seen such magnificence before. Blue diamonds encrusted with sapphires and emeralds formed a long necklace the reached to Filly’s trim waist.

                “Where did you acquire this?” asked Filly and her brow creased in suspicion. Of course it was a stolen artifact, but from whom.

                “That necklace once adorned an Egyptian queen, so I am told. I had heard of his beauty and sailed my ship towards Africa and for a brief while my “spawns of hell” toured Egypt and it’s many, many treasure troves.” Meehan smiled, and his white teeth shone brightly against his black beard.

                “Hmmph, give it to your whore.” Filly dropped the necklace onto the table, turned her back to him, and went back to polishing the mugs. Meehan stood up and walked around the counter. His arms encircled her small form and he crushed her body into his. His head bent to sniff her clean hair, and below his hands began to massage the soft flesh he knew all too well that existed under her garments. Filly’s body betrayed her anger and her head gently rolled back against his muscled chest. She moaned softly when his finger probed against her nether lips. “Nicolaus,” she gasped, “I hate you so much.” At this point Meehan leaned forward and gently grazed her sensitive ear. One hand moved upwards to fondle her large breasts.

                “You lie.” He muttered against  her ear. And with that, Meehan placed his hands around her waist and hefted her onto the bar top. Filly landed with a thud and tried to rise but Meehan placed a firm hand on her belly. He lifted her skirts so that her pantaloons were visible and immediately placed his hot wet mouth onto her womanhood.

                A loud moan ripped through Filly’s throat at the assault on her sex. She felt his skilled tongue tease and coax the sensitive skin that existed down there. Meehan nipped at her inner thighs and marveled at the taste of her flowing juices through the fabric. He sucked the crotch of the garment, which elicited a small gasp as Filly regaled in the erotic pleasures. When he could take it no more, Meehan grabbed the edges of the pantaloons and pulled them off. Filly’s vagina was dewy and perfect, pink and waiting. He bent forward and suckled her sex into his mouth. His tongue teased her jewel and Filly began to twitch and convulse off the bar top. Meehan shoved his tongue into her vagina and lapped at the applely taste of her arousal. Filly sobbed in her ecstasy at the sweet pleasures delivered to her via Meehan. Meehan eased his oral torture and thrust in a thick finger into her sheath. He pulled it in and out rapidly, as in if in warning towards what would soon transpire. He could feel the vagina walls tighten and squeeze around his finger, and his cock swelled considerably imagining the sensations she would give him. Meehan withdrew the finger and placed his mouth once again upon her. He sucked her lips and jewel in to his mouth sharply and he used his upper jaw to gnaw on her budding jewel. Filly’s breath became labored and her cries banged off the walls. Her entire body seized in the glory of the moment as she felt a passion so unbridled, so divine, that she nearly fainted. Meehan reached forward to grab her pillowy breasts and synchronized his gnawing motions to the kneading of her breasts. The pleasure was so intense that Filly’s pelvic region bucked wildly and she tried to break away. Instead, Meehan pulled her breasts to him so that her vagina was crushed even more so towards his mouth. Filly screamed and her juices flowed copiously onto the bar top.

                Her bucking and writhing continued and even got stronger so Meehan was forced to release her breasts to lock down onto her hips, and yet she still tried to flee.

                “Oh Nicolaus! Please, stop.  I can’t, I can’t take any more of this.” Filly pleaded desperately, but to no avail as one of Meehan’s hands pressed her pelvis down. At this point, Filly felt the constrictions of her sacred temple, and she reveled in carnal glory.

                Meehan stopped and stood straight up. He wiped off her delicious juices with the back of his hand off of his bearded chin. He gathered the still twitching Filly into his arms and carried her to the bed chamber. Filly’s room was large and luxurious and was filled with treasures and amenities from the far reaches of the globe.  He dropped her into a fluff of pillows and ripped off her clothing. Meehan’s own garments were flung all around the room in his eagerness to reunite with the Divinity between her thighs. In one swift motion he sought to enter, but Filly placed a small hand on his heaving chest.

                “Nicolaus, there is only one thing you have to say first.” Whispered Filly, and a gleam of happiness sparkled in her eyes. Meehan spoke with a deep clarity that resonated well into the marrow of her bones.

                “I love you.” He said, and then penetrated her.

                Meehan pumped his hips slowly at first and then began to work up to a considerable speed. He would delve deep and hit her cervix only to pull out to thrust shallowly into her. Meehan loved the feeling of her soft ridges and folds.

                “Oh, Filly.” He moaned. His hands grasped her hair and she clung to him for dear life. Over and over again he said her name and professed his love, and never did his hands leave the sweet entangled mass of her curly blonde hair. Filly’s breasts rose and fell rapidly and were smothered against his burning chest. Meehan buried his face in the soft hollow of her neck and his kisses seared her to the fiber of her being. At long last, Meehan felt the pleasure surge within him, and at which point he withdrew his large penis. Instinctively Filly grabbed ahold of his throbbing manhood and began to jack him. His veined manhood was so slick in her juices. Meehan roared with delight as his pleasures erupted forth all over Filly’s soft tummy. Some of the molten liquid spewed as high as to her lovely breasts.

                “Oh Filly,” he breathed, and a hand reached forth to gently trace the side of her face. “You are so beautiful.” He was then quiet, and Filly, who was too weak to even smile, accepted this as his apology.

                For a long time the couple lay entwined in each other’s arms. Meehan wrapped a strong leg around her lower body which signified his possession of her.  There was no question concerning his love for her. Meehan was in love with her although he did not know it. It would take several more heartbreaks in order for him to realize that Filly was not only a Divinity, but his and his alone to worship.



The End

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